Confluence of the Magi
The world around us is a lie perpetrated by the evils of the priests. We alone stand as heralds of truth in a shattered reality, scions of eternal night. Morgoneth may have opened our eyes to the truth, but the whispers have opened our hearts to the solution.
It writhes outside and within, the black tendrils of eternal night cradle the unmaking of all. The flutes of despair sing their chorus and we alone dance to their blissful tune. The betrayers come for us now, but they have not yet seen the beauty of the abyss. But they will, they all will.
Even as the end to our mortal forms rapidly approaches, the whispers of Morgoneth emanate from within our minds. We were deceived, for in the forging of the rings Morgoneth told but seven lies. His ring was made to be above all. He is the prime, the one to bring us all to the abyss and the one who will bring us back.
They come, they come. Let the chorus of unreality begin. Let them hear the whispers too, for in the end of all things, only nothingness remains.